Why So Serious?
by korallrode
Summary: Based on Ledger's Joker using alternate route, not the vat of chemicals. Jack Napier was always the same man on the inside, its just the aesthetics that changed. Story of his life through the mob, Arkham, and his reign of terror over Gotham. R&R PLEASE
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters, as much as that would be great, alas...

SUMMARY- PLEASE READ: The story of how the Joker came to be, using an alternate route, not the vat of acid thing. Just wanted to write a whole new take on this character and his life. I've made up some new characters and changed the outcome of a few. This is based off of the looks of the new movie (The Dark Knight) and off of Ledger's Joker and just the way he looked normally. (Remember that "normally" part, its important for the first part of the story) May he rest in peace, he is going to be extraordinary, fearless, scary, amazing, all of the above and much more. This is written in honor of his last movie, I hope you all like it. R&R please

DEAD WEIGHT

The long mahogany table stretched into the dining hall, draped in the finest green silk table cloth money could buy. Opalescent champagne glasses and fine dinner wear was laid out, each of the plates was spaced equally. White candles and low lit chandeliers made the room glow with a medieval sort of light. Car doors thudded shut out side and the guests were ushered to the side door as to not call attention to their whereabouts. Men in tailored suits and coats filed in murmuring to each other, while looking about this beautiful and dangerous place they had been invited to. Sam O'Connor stood at the end of the table ready to take his enemies into his arms.

"Gentlemen!" he said bowing slightly and snapping at the butlers to take their coats.

Joe Ciardi and his crew of about five men walked in procession to the opposite end of the table. Joe stopped to talk to Sam.

"We're keeping our promise? What we agreed on?" Sam nodded.

"I remember last time, you made me and my boys look like we had shit for brains. Very unprofessional. Remember, I came here tonight to show that I as well as my crew have class, as we always have and that it doesn't blow in with the northern wind."

Joe's ominous form moved closer in on Sam. "So, that wont happen again will it O'Connor..." They locked eyes, Ciardi was testing him, knowing what a short fuse he is, seeing if he would repeat his last folly. Joe walked away leaving Sam to simmer in his own frustration. Truth be told, it wasn't his fault. "_Damn you Jack."_ Sam thought to himself._"That boys too smart for his own good. We can both get dipped in shit and he'll come out smellin' like a rose. Always a little too charming, a little too witty, a little too he cant keep from smiling at Ciardi's girlfriend. He knows full well what he was doing, but..." _Jack entered the room dressed in a grey tailored suit. He winked at Ciardi as he passed._"Always two steps ahead of everyone here, including my self and more importantly, Ciardi and his crew. That's why he's my top hit man..." _

Sam sat at the head of the table. Dinner had gone somewhat smoothly, though he could start to see Ciardi's temper bubbling up. Sam could tell that he hated being in his house, hated not being the one in power, hated knowing that if him or any of his men tried to pull anything, not only would they all be dead in matter of seconds but it would start a full on mob war in the streets of Gotham. The tension threatened to snap at any moment, like an over stressed violin string. Both bosses knew that they didn't need any more publicity than they already received from the weekly police reports. Once again Sam had to thank Jack for this underhanded power play.

"There's no way it wont work." Jack had told him a week before. "They'll be completely powerless. They'll have to listen to us and more importantly, have to keep their mouths shut, and..." Jack had leaned over Sam's desk, his sandy blonde hair looking particularly disheveled. "All those shipments of dope he wants off the south docks wont move them selves. He knows he needs our help, and in order to get it sacrifices will have to be made on his behalf." Sam had gotten up, patting Jack on the back. Good thinking Napier..."

Jack looked around the table, scanning Ciardi's crew as well as Sam's. He finally arrived at the man sitting across from him, a beefy brainless looking hulk belonging to Ciardi's crew. He was staring at Jack with an unexpected shrewdness.

"_What a waste of time." _He thought to himself. "_We've made our point and Ciardi has already agreed to everything. My plan worked, so what else is there?" _He glanced at Sam, a feeling of disgust came over him. "_Talk about a waste, working for king ignoramus him self. These two "powerful" men, these top mob figures of Gotham: they don't know their ass from a hole in the ground." _Jack looked at Joe, finding that he was staring right back. A broad impish grin spread over his face. Joe stood up and threw down his napkin.

"We're done here... I will not stand to sit here and have this sonuvabitch cad grin at me!" Joe's crew got up also. "What the hell O'Connor, he disgraced me last time and now you let him sit here and do this?! Smile at me?!" Joe pointed at Jack. "What are you thinking, huh? What are you thinking!" The beefy man who had been sitting across from Jack pulled out a gun and pointed it at Jack's chest. Instantly both Joe and Sam's men all had guns pointing at one another. Jack still sat in his chair looking him straight in the eye.

"Go ahead, sweet cheeks, see what happens." "Shut up Jack!" Sam bellowed.

Joe lowered his gun and the rest followed reluctantly. Slipping his gun back into his coat Joe started to march out of the dining hall, his crew following. He pointed at Sam. "This is far from over O'Connor." He turned his back, his voice echoing harshly through the cavernous room. "You keep that puckish excuse for a man away from me and as for the those shipments at the docks, we can do with out you."

The heavy door thudded shut as the last of Joe's men left, leaving the room and Sam's men silent. Sam turned and placed his gun on the table. He looked around the room at the stony faces staring back at him out of the dusky air. He ran a weary hand over his face.

"Jack you stay here, the rest of you can leave, we're done." They all cleared out quickly and soon only the two were left. Jack slouched back in his chair. Sam walked over and stood directly next to him. "Stand up." Jack remained seated looking straight ahead. "I said stand up, boy. I'll bash that pretty face of yours in if you don't get up right-now." Jack stood up coming eye to eye with Sam. They both stood motionless until Sam spoke. "Why... why did you do that. You just screwed me and the rest of my guys including yourself out of a huge amount of money and now Joe's probably got a hit out for you. You're my top hit man, your smart..." Sam stepped closer his voice rising. "Which makes me wonder why you just did this! Why huh?!" Sam grabbed a steak knife off the table and held it to Jack's neck. Jack backed up grabbing one also pressing the tip firmly into Sam's side. "Whaddaya gonna do hmm?" Sam said pressing the blade deeper. Blood started trickling down Jack's neck and soaking into his shirt. "You gonna spill my guts all over your nice shoes? Watch me bleed to death?" Jack smirked. "Just give me the word, Sammy, and I'll do the honors." Their eyes locked for a brief second, then Jack pushed Sam backwards sending him off balance. He jumped on the table and slid across, dragging the table cloth off the edge causing plates and silverware to crash to the floor. Sam regained his balance and started running after Jack grabbing his gun off the table. Jack was already almost to the door he slid his own gun out of his jacket just as Sam fired two shots at him, one grazing his left shoulder. Jack ducked around the corner. He could hear other men coming down from the upstairs, yelling to each other.

"Show your face godammit!" Sam roared as he advanced on Jacks hiding place, and before Sam could react Jack darted out and fired two shots into his head.

As he burst through the side door he spotted one of Sam's body guards in a black SUV. He fired another shot through the window killing the driver. He shoved the body into the passenger's seat and floored it. Soon the SUV was tearing down the long driveway into the inky night. He could see another pair of headlights in the rear view mirror advancing quickly. Jack turned onto the low road that would lead straight into the heart of Gotham. Luckily he had never told any one where he lived so all he had to do was ditch the car and make sure his brains didn't get blown out.

"_Simple enough." _He thought to himself. There were no more car lights behind him. The SUV barreled down the narrow street at ninety seven miles an hour. He looked over at the dead body slouched next to him, a stunned expression plastered on its face. Jack started to cackle uncontrollably.

"Stupid bastard! HHEEEAAHAHAHAHA!! Im glad your dead!!"

Soon he was in the dingy east side of Gotham. He pulled into an alleyway and turned off the car. No one was around except for a street person in the opposing alley. He calmly took the bottle of scotch the body guard had been drinking out of the cup holder and began to pour it over the seats, chugging the last bit left in the bottom. He took out his lighter and threw it onto the front seat, then turned his back and walked out of the alley leaving the last bit of evidence to burn its self away.

The pain in his shoulder was becoming increasingly worse and already his shirt and back were soaked with blood. His apartment was only a few blocks away.

"_So what if I bleed to death... at least the pig is gone. Ill die a happy man in the middle of a disease ridden street. Now that's glory." _He started to laugh again drawing the attention of a prostitute who hit on him from the corner. He took out his gun and fired it at the lamp post next to her. She screamed and ran down the side walk almost tripping over herself.

"One down, one to go." Jack said to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

A PERFECT STORM

The bathroom door had been left ajar, yellowish sunlight peeking through. Jack was lying in the bathtub soaking wet. He was still fully clothed, save for his shirt that lay in a crumpled bloody pile on the bathroom floor. He had just woken up from a few hours of restless sleep. The cheap beige colored tile had built up mill dew and grime stuck in between each square. The paint was peeling inside the bath tub and the wall paper was slowly doing the same.

He shifted his position, an aching pain came shooting back to his shoulder. Slowly memories of the night before came back. Sam's brains splattering all over his nice wood floor, the burning car in the alley, entering his apartment, turning on the water in a lazy attempt to clean the bullet wound, turning off the water and passing out from exhaustion.

Soon he was standing in front of the mirror with both hands on the edge of the sink, his wavy sandy blonde hair falling over his eyes. His upper body was ridged with other scars from fights over the years and his shoulder had started bleeding again. He chuckled at his image.

"_I look like some damn street fighter." _He flexed every muscle in his arms and chest until the outlines became visible, then relaxed watching the blood trickle down his arm.

Jack flicked on the small TV in the living/ bedroom, some infomercial about facial scrubs came on. He sat down on the edge of the bed grabbing the remote off the night stand and began switching through the channels. A female news reporter came on. She was standing at the end of Sam's drive way.

"There is news today that renowned mob boss Samuel O'Connor was found shot to death in his home last night." Jack made a caring gesture towards the TV. "Thank you, but really, it's the least I could do." The news reporter continued.

"However, it is also reported that rival gangs are _not _to blame. It appears that one of his own soldiers turned against him and ultimately got the upper hand. Police are investigating..." Jack turned off the TV and sat quietly. He knew that Sam's crew would be in disarray after his death but one thing was for sure, his second in command, Mike Harrison would take over... But that wasn't his biggest worry, Ciardi needed to be taken out.

"_Joe and his boys are going to be down at the docks tonight. No one from Sam's side of the tracks will be there... yeah, no, they wouldn't be there- too risky. So that means I run no risk or meeting up with my old play mates... perfect. Take one out, take 'em all out. Panic, yes thats the key. When you least expect it, expect it... This is too easy, taking out mob bosses. They never think any one would have the balls to march right up and...BAM! Sammy boy never saw it coming, I always knew Joe didn't need our help, nevertheless Sam thought it was a good plan. All I had to do was get wind of the date of the shipment and therein lies the one piece of information I needed to take out Joe. And speaking of Fat Joe Ciardi, that shit-for-brains excuse for a boss actually agreed to dinner. But Sam's guys- they'll be combing this town looking for "Jack Napier! the man who killed their beloved boss." _Jack got up and closed the crack in the thin curtains. "_Not this soon though, they'll be with Sam's widow for about the next two days. All that serve the family bullshit... That's enough time..."_

It was about 11:45 p.m. Joe and four of his men were loading large bricks of cocaine and heroine into the back of a delivery truck. They had been put in teddy bears and boxes for children's toys so as to not call attention.

"This is a shit load of coke, man. Im gonna have a little taste when we get back." One of the goons said another while he was passing off a brick an a Barbie's dream house box. The other laughed stupidly.

"Yeah, me too. The street value of this has real-"

"Stop chatting like a bunch of old ladies and move your ass. We're on a time line here." Joe barked at them. The other two sat in the front seat waiting for the orders to drive off. The back of the truck closed and Joe was about to get in his car when two shots rang out and glass broke. Immediately him and the to other thugs ducked behind one side of the truck, guns drawn. It was silent. One of the men edged along the truck nearing the cab. He peeked around the corner and through the window. Both the driver and passenger had been shot clean through the temples, the windows ran red with their blood.

"Oh shit man! Oh Jesus!" He turned and looked at Joe and the other man. "Their both dea-"Another shot was heard and he fell face down, shot through the back. Who ever was shooting at them now had a clear shot. Joe stepped out and fired three rounds into the darkness. It was silent again. "You go to the other side, we can trap him." Joe whispered. The man he was with started to crawl under the truck, leaving Joe alone. Joe started along the same path towards to cab as the other man did. Something shifted behind a crate and Joe carefully fired two more shots. Nothing. He passed the dead man and the cab and nothing happened. He made his way around the front of the truck, gun still poised to fire. As he came around the other side of the truck and stepped on something. It was the hand of the man he had just spoken to. He was laying on the concrete, his throat had been slit from ear to ear, blood was still bubbling out of his mouth. Joe whirled around, panic quickly starting to build. He was alone now, back pressed against the truck. He turned jerkily from side to side. He felt the cold "O" shape of a barrel press against the base of his skull and a voice from behind him. "Boo." Soon Joe was laying face down on the concrete loading dock. Jack crouched over him plucking the keys from his coat pocket and dragging the body over to the trunk of the car.

About an hour later the door bell rang at Sam's house. His wife came to the door followed by a body guard. She was dressed in a maroon night robe, her eye makeup smeared from crying. She opened the door to find no one there, but upon looking down, locked eyes with the blood shot upturned ones of Joe's severed head. Immediately the body guard pulled her back and shut the door. Her screaming echoed through the foyer drawing the attention of all the other people in the house. Later that night Harrison sat down with the other soldiers in the drawing room.

"Something will be done, actions need to be taken against him. He needs to get the message loud and fuckin' clear about what he's done." Harrison said.

Another man spoke. "I think I speak for the majority here, but we never liked him. We always told Sam to not trust him... Always with that grin on his face, like he knew somethin' we didn't."

Harrison was quiet for a while, then spoke with a cold decisiveness. "Im going to leave this up to the rest of you, how exactly you want to execute this. I will not take part, its too risky... But whatever you see fit Im sure I wouldn't have a problem with anyway, he deserves what ever he gets."

Jack sat in his apartment surrounded by empty boxes and decapitated teddy bears. He had made off with a good amount of the drugs and used Joe's car to haul them. Keeping the car would have been too risky, so he stripped the licence plate and abandoned it near the central park. Soon petty crooks would start to steal parts and Joe's high end Mercedes would turn into a shell for bums to sleep in.

As for the drugs, he would keep some for himself and sell the rest to the junkies and prostitutes that lived around him or anyone who walked the streets looking for their next fix at any cost. He knew what exactly what would be broadcast the next day: word of another top mob figure's death and the predictions of a mob war caused by the confusion and heightening tensions of two high profile deaths in two days. Everything had worked out perfectly.


	3. Chapter 3

CHASING THE DRAGON

The title literally means to cook cocaine and heroine on aluminum foil and inhale the fumes through a straw. No mythical creatures involved here.

Commissioner Gordon sat alone at the kitchen table. He put out his cigarette and covered his face with both his hands. Crickets chirped lazily out side the back door.

"Jim?" He didn't take his face out of his hands. "What..."

"You've been out here for ever and it's a wonder you didn't set off the fire alarm with all this smoke. Whats eatin' ya hun?" Barbara came and stood next to him, rubbing the back of his neck. He was quiet for a while, silently searching for the right words.

"Its just... what the hell is all this coming to? I mean, not that Gotham was ever an upstanding place to live, I mean- it used to be, sort of...when the Waynes used to run a lot of it. But Bruce has been gone for a couple years, and now..."

"Jim, When or if Bruce comes back doesn't mean that this city will transform back into what it was twenty five years ago, if that's what your worried about."

"No..." He shook his head. "Mostly I've just been thinking how these murders will effect crime rate, its already through the roof. Honestly, two bosses in two days, both killed by whats believed to be the same man, this Jack Napier character, if that's in fact his real name, you never know any more. No one can find him, no traces, nothing. We've already heard about him in the past, one hell of a loose cannon. Double homicides, bank robberies, grand theft auto, drug dealing, hit man for one of our dead bosses, the list goes on. We've gotten police reports that people have seen him but nothings come out clean... Smart too, you never know what he'll do next, no job is too big for him."

The muffled sound of a crying baby came from upstairs and Barbara quietly turned to walk away but stopped and turned. "Come to bed Jim, really, nothings going to get better by you sitting here smoking and worrying your self to death." He glanced up for a second then returned his gaze to the table top. Barbara made her way back upstairs.

"_What the hell are you going to do now?" _the Commissioner thought to himself. "_She's right, what am I going to do about it now... How is this going to help, its not... sleeping wont help either, sleep in not an option, what if there's a lead? That would be... great? No, not great, confusing as hell. Napier just seems to come and go as he pleases, right out in public, no one sees him and no one knows where he is, surprising really. He seems like a real character, someone you'd notice. We've gone from the upper west side to the slums, combing this city for him or anyone who's affiliated or knows where he might be. We already had one of our guys almost get killed... Ill start sending more under covers out, maybe, just maybe we can catch a glimpse of this ghost that runs rampant on the underbelly of this city." _Jim slowly stood up and walked to the sink and splashed warm water on his face in an attempt to calm down find some scrap of drowsiness in his body. It was silent, except for a siren down in the city, it faded, then it was quiet again. His mind turned over again and again. The sound of crickets became deafening.

The street under Jack's feet seemed to be rotting away, potholes that looked like small explosions and cracks that had been slurried over so many times you could trip over the spider web of ridges that snaked through the street. Neon lights burned cheap and bright advertizing liquor, nude shows, adult theaters, video rentals and pawn shops. Every one had a hungry look in their eye. They had all come here to either score some dope, get laid, get shit faced or die, sometimes all four. The thunder of night clubs would vibrate the street in a steady pulse and hookers, with their six inch heel platforms would balance tantalizingly in the shadows of the buildings, the street lights sometimes catching the seductive curve of their hips or breasts in their tight, barely there, over worn, over used clothing.

Club Platinum stood smoky and muffled on the corner. This is a place for anyone who is looking for a good time at any cost. Along with being a trance/ night club Platinum is a well known brothel to the regulars, the back rooms filled with women ready to do anything and everything to feel money between their fingers.

Jack slid through the thick air while people danced and moved around him all in syncopation with the driving thud of the bass. Strobe lights would occasionally illuminate a face and colored search lights would sweep over the dancers and up into the air. Everything was packed, the dance floor, the bar, the upper level. The whole club seemed ready to burst at the seams; the smell of cigarette smoke, sweat and cheap perfume was almost stifling. A woman grabbed Jack's arm, making a lewd drunken comment, but he shook her off without making eye contact and continued to weave through the crowd. The crowd thinned out towards one of the back walls and a hulk of a man stood by a beaded curtain. "There's a hundred dollar entrance fee." Jack pulled a crumpled fist full of money out of a pocket on the inside of his coat and slapped it into the guards hand, and without saying anything walked through the bead curtain. The guard was about to stop him but upon looking closer realized that he was now holding about five one-hundred dollar bills.

Behind the bead curtain there was a hallway painted midnight blue with only black lights to light the way. He opened the door to find a room with about ten half naked women lounging on satin couches. The loud thud of the bass line bled through the walls, making the whole room pulsate. One got up and made her way seductively towards him. She had dark brown hair teased up into massive curls and she looked to be of some other ethnicity. She had brown skin with a ruby red belly button ring and stiletto boots to match.

"Hey there..." She said running her hands over Jack's shoulders and chest. "What are ya, lookin' for, sweet thing..." She licked her lips seductively and walked around him, pulling teasingly at his trench coat. He caught her by the wrist and pulled her around to face him, a broad grin on his face. "Got anything to drink?" She almost looked disappointed, she was obviously expecting another answer. "Uh, sure, what do you like?" She said gently pulling him by the arm towards another hall lined with rooms. "Anythings good." They walked by a group of three girls entertaining a fat man in a business suit and she called on one of them. "Anastasia, get a scotch on the rocks, bring it to my room." As she led him into a room she introduced herself. "By the way, Im Raven." She said smiling slightly. Jack grabbed her around the waist and pulled her in roughly. "Raven, hmm? Like the bird. Its nice, I like it, but maybe you should aim for something that doesn't invoke the image of a greasy black bird, not with this pretty face of yours." He smiled again. She hit his chest with both hands, trying to pull away from him, the look on her face changing from seductive to angry, but her held her tight. "A little fight in ya, I like that." Her face softened slightly when she heard the playful tone in his voice.

"Starting the fun with out me?" A voice came from the door. Anastasia sauntered in holding the scotch in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She was scantily clad in a powder blue rhinestone net and a black thong. She had long platinum blond hair in loose curls with flawless milk white skin. She handed Jack the drink looking him up and down. "Who do we have here?" She said taking a step closer. "You look familiar..."

Knowing how high profile he had become in the past week, he quickly changed the subject. He caught Anastasia by one of her long curls and gently pulled her in, now holding both girls.

"Tell ya what, my little sex bombs, lets shut the door and I assure you, you'll get to know me in no time." Raven went to shut the door as Anastasia took long drag off her cigarette.

"You shouldn't be doing that, my dear." He said plucking the cigarette from between her fingers, and taking a drag off of it himself. "Believe me, you'll want to keep that face as long as you can." She watched as he casually put the cigarette out on his tongue and flicked the butt in the corner.

"But trust me, I have something I think we'll all agree is much better."

Raven held the lighter under the tin foil, inhaling the fumes as they rose lazily into the air.

She fell back on the mound of richly colored pillows, her eyes rolling back into her head and letting a long moan of contentment escape her full lips.

"Your right, baby..." Anastasia said dreamily running her hand across his chest and down into the waist of his pants. "This is so much better... I cant remember the last time I got a hit like that... almost better than sex..." She crawled on top of him straddling his waist. "But not quite." Jack started to weave his fingers through the rhinestone net she was wearing. Soon it lay on the floor, her full breasts rubbing seductively against him. She started to undo the front of his pants. "You want me to suck your cock, baby? She said while she worked her way down the front of his body. Suddenly the door opened and a man stood looking thoroughly surprised. Jack jumped up knocking Anastasia back onto the floor. The two men stood facing each other for a few moments, there was something vaguely familiar about the intruder...

"Aw, shit man, Im- Im sorry, Im sorry man." With out saying anything Jack pulled a hand gun from the inside of his coat and pointed it at him, the drugs had raised his paranoia to a boiling point. The man disappeared from sight. Jack walked to the door but he was gone. He tuned and slammed the door with a thunderous crash, jarring Raven from her drug induced sleep. He threw all the drugs and aluminum out the window and turned to face the two girls. Anastasia got up shakily from the floor.

"Why don't you come back to bed, forget about him... he's just jealous." she said running her hands over her bare figure. Jack grabbed her by the throat. "And why don't you shut the fuck up, you little two bit bitch." He threw her back onto the floor. Raven stumbled off the bed and started to spit obscenities at him. He cocked the gun and pointed it at her. "You stay there, or Ill paint the walls with your brains."

He turned back to Anastasia who was still cowering on the floor. He crouched down and shoved the barrel between her lips working its way into her mouth. "Why don't you suck on that, hmm?" He cackled at her terrified expression. She started to say something but it was muffled by the barrel. He took it out of her mouth. "I didn't quite catch that, what now dearie?" His voice had a menacing edge to it. Her eyes flickered to one side and he turned just in time to see Raven pointing a gun at him, she had gotten it out of one of the night stand drawers. Without hesitating he aimed and fired one well aimed shot right between her eyes. Anastasia screamed as he turned towards her again. "Congratulations, you just helped me kill your friend."

"I hope you die!! Die you mother fu-!!" He grabbed her by the hair silencing her curses.

"You want me to kill you, don't you?" Anastasia stared into his eyes, they were dark and soulless. He stared back at her putting on his most charming smile.

"No, no, no, no, Im going to leave now, because its just not that easy. I would rather think of you sitting here with Miss brain spatter of the year, and thinking about how lucky you are to _not _be in her position, because lets face it, that sucks now doesn't it?" he said forcing her to look at the bloody corpse laying against the wall. Anastasia shut her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks taking copious amounts of mascara with them.

Soon she was alone in the stinking bloody nightmare of a room. Jack had left through the window and down the fore escape.

The "intruder" had been standing down in the street after he had made a break for it back through the club.

"Yeah...yeah, I walked right in on him." he told Harrison on the other end. Yeah, Im down at Platinum and I thought I saw him in there so I followed, and sure enough, I opened that door and there he was, two girls and all."

"Did you get a good look at him, your sure its him..." Harrison asked.

"Yes, Im sure, looked right into the bastard's eyes, and by the way he just came out of the fire escape, I can see him now."

"Alright, trail him, keep us in touch, Ill be sending some of the guys down. We already have a plan in motion."


	4. Chapter 4

THE WRONG COMPANY

Joe's body lay on a stainless steel table. The coroner carefully peeled back the ragged skin with a pair of long pincers taking note that the tissue had already started to decompose. He talked to him self as he worked through the investigation.

"Flesh has already started to break down... subcutaneous layers seem the most effected." He bent down staring straight down into the trachea.

"Nothing is obstructing the air ways... vertical grinding patterns in the bone moving from the right to left side of the neck. Sudden deep tissue damage is _very _apparent." He held a magnifier over the skin again looking closer at the ripped un-identical patterns.

"Tsk... Well, who ever did this didn't have much finesse." He covered the body again, disposed of his latex gloves and started to enter more information into the computer, finalizing the autopsy.

The door opened behind him.

"Ah, Commissioner, come to get the latest I see."

Gordon nodded with out saying anything and came to stand next to him.

"So? What have you, uh, concluded."

"Well..." he said grabbing another pair of gloves and putting them on. "There was some interesting patterns in the bone." He uncovered the body and pointed to the gouged vertebrae. Gordon bent down to get a closer look.

"Who ever did this probably used a jig saw, there- you see the pattern?" Gordon nodded.

"Anything else? I mean thats all?" The coroner sighed and took a step back.

"Thats really it actually. I did blood toxin levels, checked for any other marks, wounds, broken bones, bruising, externally and internally, everything. He doesn't look like he had any pre existing conditions either. I went through the whole run down and my conclusion is... jig saw."

Gordon stood looking down at the body.

"We haven't found the head, don't know what happened to it." The coroner nodded not saying anything.

Gordon's cell phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket. "One moment."

"Hello?"

"Yes, Gordon? Hi this the police chief Spencer, im calling on behalf of Mr. Dent. He says he needs to meet with you, its urgent apparently. Uh, from what I got its something about the influx of inmates and something about the current state of the city."

"Yeah, yeah, its always urgent and its always about the "state of the city" and what we can do to cut down on crime and how the system is over loaded with the increasing crime rate, I got ya..." Gordon said running a hand over his face.

"Oh and sir?"

"Yeah."

"Theres something else..uh..." the police chief's voice was suddenly shaky. Gordon waited, now expecting to have some huge load of shit dropped on his head, he could tell this was going to be bad.

"We've lost four officers, sir."

"What?!" The coroner looked up, startled.

"Oh Jesus, who? What the hell happened?

"Uh, officers Connelly, Patterson, Brogan and Davis. They um... they were found in different locations around the city. They had all been strangled to death." Gordon closed his eyes. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, this was horrible. Just four more deaths to add the growing number of men lost on their force. The police chief's voice brought him back from his train of thought.

"Theres more, sir. The bodies were found with out clothes, all of them. The murderers stole the uniforms. We have no idea why they would do that..." There was a few moments of silence.

"Alright, Ill call you back after my talk with Harvey, im sure he'll have something to say about this. Make sure their families are compensated until we can do more." Commissioner Gordon thanked the coroner for his insight and left quickly.

The alley smelled like piss and the early morning sun cut across his face giving him an instant head ache. Jack slowly opened his eyes and stared at the dumpster directly in front of him, seemingly transfixed with the scummy runs of mystery fluid that dripped down the side. As his head cleared more he still couldn't remember why he had crashed so suddenly in some shit hole alley. Maybe it was the drugs but that didn't seem right. Maybe they were laced with something... Whatever, this was not a good place to be, given that nearly half the Gotham police force was after him along with Sam's crew, this was like laying out in the open with a target painted on your chest.

His hair stuck out in all directions, making his disheveled appearance even more extreme. The back of his coat was soaked from leaning against wet brick. He got up leaning against the wall and running a hand through his hair.

"_Screw me, right? Now I have to hope to hell that no one sees me or, that skank doesn't spot me and try to avenge her play mate. Not like it would matter... I'd just do the same to her, at least it would add some color to the walls. This place is in need of some spicing-up anyway." _Jack chuckled at his own thoughts as he meandered out onto the sidewalk still trying to clear his head.

He looked up to see a beefy man standing in front of him, he was a cop. Jack stopped and curtseyed. "Top o' the mornin' to ya." The man didn't say anything so Jack turned on the spot and started to walk in the other direction when another appeared. He stopped again and walked out into the street. Two more appeared from behind a black van. He was hit from behind by the two on the side walk and the others grabbed him also for good measure. As they dragged him to the van he looked up at the four men.

"Really ladies, you'll all get your turn but not all at once, now, its been a long night."

One split off and opened the sliding door on the van, and still without saying anything the other three threw him in the back, climbed in and shut the door.


	5. Chapter 5

THE SLAUGHTER HOUSE FOUR

The early morning traffic was slow, allowing the van to speed through red lights. Drops of blood started to speckle the floor of the van as the two police officers landed hundred pound punches on Jack's face and body. The van screeched to a sudden halt throwing the three of them against the back of the front seat. One of them yelled at the driver.

"What the hell was that, dumb shit?!"

"Shut the hell up! Some bitch walked in front of me!" The van took off again. The two brawny men sat back watching Jack roll over and spit out blood onto the already filthy floor. He wiped the blood off his face and out of his eyes in order to get a better look at his assailants, propping himself up against the side of the van despite aching ribs. He read their badges out loud.

"Officers Davis and Patterson... Well, it's a pleasure. Do you usually viciously attack all criminals, or is this a new custom..." The two men sat back like two heavily perspiring stone pillars, ready to explode again at the slightest provocation. Jack eyed them suspiciously, using the one eye that wasn't starting to swell shut. He pursed his lips looking at the one that seemed most likely to attack him again.

"Im not stupid. Your not cops, I knew that the second you tossed me in here." A little smirk flitted across his face. "I think its sweet, that you invited me to your little slumber party, who brought the brownies?" The man he had been looking at lunged toward him and slung him against the opposite side of the van. The other man grabbed him pulling him off of Jack.

"Calm down, alright!"

The man in the passenger seat yelled back at them."Yeah, save room for dessert!"

The van soon pulled into the fair grounds and backed into a large storage shed. The back doors flung open and Jack was dragged out. He started to squirm violently in a last attempt to break free from their steely hold. The two men dropped him onto a table and all four proceeded to tie his hands and feet to the legs. Three split off leaving the man who was sitting in the passengers seat standing alone next to the table.

"Do you know who I am?" Jack squinted, the garish warehouse lighting was blinding. Jack sighed impatiently. "No, but you need to tell your "fellow officers" to take five."

"You always thought everything was a joke, you had a good sense of humor... Thats what Sam liked about you." Jack opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the man standing next to him. He locked eyes with him and knew...

"We all had the opportunity to kill you on the way here, but thought we'd like to make you more comfortable." He said motioning to the table. Jack looked back at the ceiling.

"If your gonna kill me then just do it. Enough with the dramatic prequel." The man started in again, with the same calm even tone.

"That brings me to our second item. Myself as well as the men in this room have decided that we would make things more interesting for us and for you. I think you would agree that death can be, hmmm... boring." Jack had started to count the rivets on the ceiling, silently mouthing the numbers as he counted.

The man pounded the edge of the table in order to get Jack's attention.

"Listen to me!" he bellowed as he completely lost his cool. He pulled long razor out of his coat pocket and held it up to Jack's throat.

"How 'bout I just bleed you out right here, huh?! Like the fuckin' vermin you are! Jack swallowed hard feeling the cold blade pressing down on his jugular. The mans face was inches away from his.

"You killed him! You smiled all through dinner, when Sam gave you a seat of honor and then you killed him! You got Sam fucked over with that same grin when you flirted with Joe's girlfriend! He took you in! He did nothin' but help you and you murdered him in his own house!" The man was quivering with rage by this point. He backed off, breathing heavily as he walked over to the other three. About a minute passed when Jack asked them, "Why didn't I see any of you then? I know who was at that dinner." The man turned and walked back to the table followed by one of the others. He grabbed Jack's face. His voice was cold and deep.

"We were in the room, enough said." For the first time Jack was completely serious. The man's grip tightened.

"Lets put a smile on that face, shall we? So you'll remember what got you here." He started to pry Jack's mouth open, using the razor as extra incentive. The other man helped hold his head still. Soon the razor was pulling against the corner of Jack's mouth.

"Say bye bye to that pretty face." Jack felt a horrible tearing sensation followed by excruciating pain. His mouth started to fill with blood from the wound and blood was already pouring down the side of his face and neck. He tried to spit it out but it only ended up bubbling up and out through the new extension at the side of his mouth.

The man walked to the opposite side of the table.

"And now for the other side." Soon the same kind of cut was made to the other side of his mouth. He threw the bloody razor on the floor.

"Finish him." he ordered the other man that came with him. The other man drew a knife out of his coat and sank it into Jack's stomach. He screamed tearing the gashes up further.

The four men carried him back out to the van by his arms and legs and they sped away. The man who had done the cutting was sitting back in the passengers seat wiping his hands.

"Take him to Arkham, thats where he belonged to begin with. If he doesn't make it, then thats their problem.

It had started to spit snow by the time they arrived in the long arching front drive way of Arkham Asylum. One of the men got out and dragged Jack's limp body out of the van and on to the cold pavement, leaving him laying like a bloody rag doll. The van was long gone by the time a couple of nurses came to see what had happened.


	6. Chapter 6

SCAR TISSUE

"Mr. Dent, you have a call."

"Tell them Ill call them back."

"Its urgent apparently, its Lt. Jim Gordon from the GCPD."

"We have to do something about this. Its time to get our guys out there and crack down. I mean, the covers off of man holes are being stolen now. Some women on the east side fell into one this morning."

"I know where your coming from Lieutenant, and I know, it seems like you cant go one day any more with out hearing about something new. It is out of control, defiantly, but believe me, Im doing everything in my power to fight this, just like you." Gordon was becoming frustrated with Dent's tone. It sounded too rehearsed or like he was just trying to get him off the phone.

"We could really use some of your help right now." Gordon's tone was polite but firm. "Being that your Gotham's DA."

"Like I said, I've made it one of my primary goals and promises to this city to clean it up; to crack down on the mob and crime in general, I appreciate your concern though." Gordon felt his temper flare.

"Thats what Gotham needs, a pied piper to coax to mob out of the woodwork..." As soon as the words had left his mouth Comm. Gordon realized how it must have sounded. Harvey was silent on the other end. Gordon held his hand over the mouthpiece and cursed quietly.

"Well, thank you for your time Mr. Dent and Im sure we will stay in contact throughout this ordeal. Let me know if theres anything more my unit can do. "

"I will lieutenant. Oh, by the way can you look into the new arrival at Arkham, from what I've heard it could be a lead." Gordon hung up the phone.

"I _don't_ believe in Harvey Dent." He sarcastically said to himself.

--

"What do you think?"

"What do you mean "what do I think?" I think there had to be some reason for him to just be dumped off out on the front drive."

"What did the nurses say?... the ones who found him."

"One said she heard tires screeching so she got another nurse to go see what was going on. When they walked out they found him lying in a pool of blood unconscious. They didn't see the vehicle... They called in a code blue given the condition he was in. He went into shock by the time they got him into surgery." Both doctors stood quietly as they looked through the two way mirror at the still figure lying in the bed. He wore nothing but white cotton pants, a bandage covering his stomach and the corners of his mouth and sides of his face laced back together with black cris-crossed stitches.

"They moved him to this room this morning, hes been here for about three days; the nurses say hes woken up a few times but nothing big." The doctor glanced at the clock hanging from the wall. Dr. Arkham should be here in a few minutes and uh... he said something about bringing a "newbie" with him, says its better to hit 'em hard at first so their not so shocked when they actually see what this place has to offer,_ patient _wise that is."

The door opened and the two Doctors turned. Dr. Arkham nodded in silent greeting, his lanky figure ducking slightly as he entered the observation room. He was followed by a young woman dressed in a typical white overcoat. She had blond hair and opulent blue eyes. Dr. Arkham spoke in a low murmur.

"He has no matching prints and no DNA match has been made. He had no ID either, so he is our mystery man at the moment. We currently had him on a morphine drip with a dose of antibiotics to keep any infection down." Dr. Arkham glanced up from the notes on his clip board into the room.

"The facial scarring _is_ however going to be a problem. "Extreme" is the word that the surgeon used..." The four of them stood quietly for a moment then the woman who had come in with Dr. Arkham spoke up.

"But as of now we don't have any reason to believe that he belongs in a mental institution. Couldn't the people who dropped him off have thought that this was just a hospital?" Dr. Arkham gave a half hearted smile.

"Unless they recently moved to town, maybe, but otherwise everyone knows that this is not _just _a hospital. We'll have to see how this pans out and make our diagnosis from there." The other three nodded in agreement. Dr. Arkham spoke again.

"Erm, by the way this Harleen Quinzel, she's joined our staff as of last Wednesday." The other doctors shook her hand.

All four left the room simultaneously. Ms. Quinzel's heels clicked on the tile floor as she walked with Dr. Arkham.

"Im going to send you over to Dr. Joan Leland for a tour of the institution. Her office is on the fourth floor room 408. Just show the woman at the gate your badge and she'll buzz you in."

Harleen flashed a shy smile.

"Thank you doctor."

Commissioner Gordon sat across from the two nurses in an unused conference room in Arkham.

"Did you catch _anything_? A licence plate or the type of vehicle? Distinct sound of the engine? " His tone had a stressed edge to it. Both women shook their heads. Gordon could feel himself getting frustrated. These nurses had been nothing but a head ache. They sat like two overfed hens and told him the same thing over and over. Gordon sighed, and decided to let them go. He had a feeling that they really hadn't seen anything and were probably not smart enough to lie if they had.

Dr. Leland was an older woman with distant eyes and a slim but homely physique. She spoke deliberately and didn't mince words as she lead Harleen around the endless corridors. After about half an hour her crassness started to wear on Harleen's positive attitude. Her descriptions of the different facilities was harsh and emotionless. When they had passed through the "frankenstein ward" she made a comment that more of Arkham's patients should undergo this procedure. Harleen knew by the vacant look in the eyes of the people in there that they had all had frontal lobotomies. She introduced her to several other doctors that work in her field and gave her the employees map of the entire building. The map had everything, right down to what kind of security was in certain wards. Harleen noticed that her ward was highlighted in red. _Highest security ward... well, you got what you worked for Harl..." _Dr. Leland's abrasive voice interrupted her train of thought.

"Yeah, the red ward. Your in with the best of the worst. Nothing but Gotham's finest in there." They continued to walk until they got to Harleen's designated ward.

"And this is where I leave you. I could go in with you but I've seen enough of that ward in the time I've been here to last me into retirement."

"_Which should have been years ago." _Harleen thought to herself.

"Thank you for the tour Dr. Leland." she said holding out her hand.

"Your welcome, oh, Ill send over a message to Dr. Arkham telling him that you've completed your mandatory run down."

As Harleen passed through the double metal gates she realized almost instantly how quiet it got. The red ward consisted of three hall ways connecting at the ends. The first hall was all offices and therapy rooms. When you came to the end you made a right turn through a heavy swinging door that lead into the temporary holding cells. If you walked past all the temp. cells you made another right turn and ended up where the actual holding cells are. She continued to walk until she got to the swinging door leading to the temp. cells and went inside. It was still quiet except for the hum of the old air conditioning unit. She was intrigued by the long narrow rectangular shaped windows that looked into every cell. It was like some form of a human zoo. She peered into one with a man sitting peacefully on his wire frame cot. Unlike the permanent cells, these didn't have two way mirrors, so here the patient could see out into the hall. She started to look through her clip board to see about the different conditions that existed in this ward. When she looked back up she jumped back in surprise. The man had come right up to the window and was looking at her with milky blue eyes. Apparently her reaction wasn't received well because he started to cry. A few seconds later he threw himself against the glass, yelling at her in indecipherable sentences. She immediately started to walk quickly back down the hall and didn't stop until she had arrived in front of her new office. She walked inside taking a deep breath and laying her clip board on the desk. _This is all part of the job experience, calm the hell down. _She thought to herself. She checked her e mail, her inbox was empty; no assignments yet. No voice mail either. She sat back in the orthopedic chair and took her hair out of the banana clip that had held it in a wavy fountain shape.

The man from the medical ward floated back into her mind. While Dr. Arkham was going on about conditions and treatment she had watched him. His breathing, how one of his wrists has been bound to the bed just as a precaution, courtesy of the Gotham police dept. How he had looked, even in his current state, as if he was perpetually grinning due to the cuts running up the sides of his face. It had intrigued her to the point where she wasn't listening to Dr. Arkham at all. He was truly a mystery.

As she got up from her chair the grabbed her clip board and straightened her skirt. She had to have another look. Her first day was turning out to not be so bad after all. Hopefully they would grant her access to the room again.

"Excuse me, is there still a patient in room 225?" The nurse at the front desk looked up at her from her magazine.

"Yes I believe so."

Have they admitted any new patients to that room?"

"No, that room is stable." Harleen got the feeling from this nurse that she was just being standoff-ish because her reading had been interrupted..

"Can you let me go through please? I need to view the patient again to..." _Think quick Harley, think quick. _

"To watch for any new behavioral developments, that is, if his recovery has been as quick as expected." The nurse raised an eye brow.

"Your badge please."

A few moments later Harleen was walking down the white tiled hall towards room 225. She swiped her ID and the door clicked open.


End file.
